


THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO ST. DANIEL

by esteefee



Series: Pope John [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blasphemy, Chastity, Crack, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard not to be Pope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO ST. DANIEL

O'Neill wasn't smiling, which concerned Rodney until he remembered that O'Neill never smiled. O'Neill said something about Sheppard having requested a discharge "on religious grounds," whatever that meant.

And now O'Neill was giving John the full force of his most scary look. Rodney himself had been on the other side of that look. It wasn't fun.

John, though, seemed to be unaffected. "See, I was dying in the Afghan desert, and all around me everything was kinda shimmery, and there appeared this freaky glowing guy. A saint." John laughed self-deprecatingly. "Except instead of a robe, he was wearing a V-necked sweater..."

O'Neill narrowed his eyes. "And he told you to get out of the Air Force? Seriously?"

"Well, not in so many words." John scratched his jaw. "He didn't really look like a saint, come to think of it. Too good-looking for it. You know the type."

O'Neill blinked.

"Blue eyes, dirty blond. Kind of a twinkie, actually."

O'Neill groaned and jammed the heel of his hand against his forehead.

"What? What'd he say?" Rodney asked. "What'd you say?" John shrugged at him with a puzzled expression.

O'Neill sounded exasperated. "So, this saint guy, _he_ told you you should be Pope?"

"Well, yeah. He told me I needed to live, that my destiny waited in the ancient city. Then he zoomed off in this awesome light show." John leaned back in his chair. "Well, I'd lost a lot of blood at that point, so maybe I imagined that part, but I got up and headed in that direction and eventually I ran into a SAR team. When I'd healed up, I asked to get out."

"Because this saint told you to go to the Ancient City," O'Neill said, rolling his eyes toward Rodney.

John folded his arms. "Wouldn't you? I mean, I can't say I was a very religious guy before, but if a saint saves your life and tells you to do something, you do it, man." He pointed emphatically.

Rodney moaned in understanding. "I just don't think he meant—"

"So, first thing I could, I flew to Rome and talked to the Vatican, but for some reason they didn't think too much of my story, and they put me to work in the freakin' motorpool." John's lower lip protruded.

Rodney gave him a pat. "And then the event with the orb happened."

John brightened. "That was awesome. Suddenly I'm getting the special treatment. Had to give up sex, though. That sucks."

Verily, it did, and Rodney really resented the fact once the effects of St. Tiberius' chest had worn off, John had re-taken up his mantle of chastity, resisting all of Rodney's advances with the paltry excuse he had to keep himself pure or he wouldn't find his "special purpose."

"We already know your special purpose," Rodney had argued on the plane ride, "It's to have great sex with me and to touch anything I tell you to touch!"

That hadn't gone over well.

O'Neill looked a little wide-eyed. "Well, now that you're here, we've got some papers for you to sign before we let you see the cool stuff, Major."

"Just John is fine. Or, your ex-holiness."

O'Neill didn't look amused.

"But I'm not so sure about signing up. What's this all about? Rodney said something about space ships?"

"Oh, he did, did he?"

Yup, there went that glare.

"And I saw things in that mirror, creepy things."

"We'll go over all that when you sign—"

"Say, Jack, have you heard about this new artifact McKay brought in? I'm dying to get a look at it—" Jackson came trundling in, his eyes on a book so he charged right into the back of John's chair. "Oh, excuse me, I'm so sorry."

"No! No, please." John looked stunned, eyes wide, mouth open. Even his hair looked agog. "It's…it's you!"

"Yes?" Jackson said slowly, his eyes moving questioningly to O'Neill.

"Apparently, Major Sheppard, here met you when you were—" O'Neill made a swoopy motion.

"Ah. Well." Jackson looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"May I?" John reached out, and Jackson automatically offered his hand for a shake, only to have John kneel and kiss it.

"Gah!" Rodney exclaimed.

"Oh," Jackson said.

O'Neill just cleared his throat and stood up. "That's enough, ah, devotion there, Sheppard. Dr. Jackson doesn't remember being all glowy, sad to say."

"You don't remember me?" John still had a hold of Jackson's hand, and Jackson, for his part, didn't seem to be trying too hard to get it back.

"No. I'm so sorry. That time of my, er, death is all a big blur."

"You saved my life. You had a message for me—"

Rodney reached in between them and disengaged their body parts. "I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"Rodney!"

"Dr. McKay!" Jackson turned back to John. "Major Sheppard, I may not remember it, but I'm sure it was important. I had a clarity of vision at the time I wish I could still grasp in this corporeal form."

"Maybe I could help? I got pretty good at meditation."

And, oh, sweet baby Jesus, Sheppard was making googly eyes at Jackson now. Rodney thought he might puke.

"Right now, the only thing you're gonna meditate on is these," O'Neill said in a hard voice, and slapped his hand on the giant stack of NDA forms sitting on his desk. Thank God someone was taking control of the situation.

Jackson mumbled something about the St. Tiberius chest and sidled out of the room.

"It really is him," John said reverently. "I must be in the right place."

So, that was something, at least, and Rodney watched in satisfaction as John picked up the stack of forms and started signing.

:::

Later that afternoon, Rodney wasn't nearly as complacent. He hadn't seen John—not hide nor hair-shirt of the sneaky bastard—since he'd been through SGC intake.

"Have you seen Sheppard?" Rodney asked Ronon, who had finally returned from the Vatican assignment. It had taken him a while to extract himself from his Bishopric. Apparently he'd been hugely popular in his diocese.

"Il Papa's down in the basilica giving blessings."

"He's—don't call him that—down where giving what? Wait, we have a basilica?"

Ronon shrugged. "Just a little one. Doesn't even have an apse."

Rodney boggled for a moment before saying, "But who the hell wants John to give them blessings?"

"Incoming offworld teams, people with minor physical complaints..."

"He's using the Tiberius chest? He can't! Did Carter approve this? Never mind, I'll find out myself." Rodney stomped off, then spun back around and asked for directions to the 'basilica'.

Honestly.

But he did find Sheppard there, catching him just as the last of his grateful congregation filtered out the door. At least they all appeared decently clothed, and no one had any sort of post-coital glow about them, which was saying something.

John hastily closed the Tiberius chest. "Look, Rodney, I was just closing up shop. So unless you came for a plain ol' blessing..."

"No, I did not come for a blessing. Not unless it involves some healing, Marvin Gaye-style." Because, Christ, John all in black, with that cross of his shining on his chest like a beacon of temptation?

But John was backing away. "You're trying to tempt me! You are a corrupt and salacious Jezebel!" He crossed his arms and they bulged tightly under his cross. "Look, it's hard enough working with this box all day long. I can barely control the damned thing. And then you come along, with your big...and the way you..." John waved his hand jerkily.

"The way I do what? And my _what_?" But Rodney was secretly gleeful, and very glad he'd dressed left today.

John scowled.

Rodney put his hands up placatingly. "Look, I'm glad you were helping those people out. And apparently your gene is strong enough to do it without having an orgy while curing their bunions, so that's a big plus."

Now John nodded, and Rodney edged a little closer.

"Carson says it only works on minimal injuries and chronic problems, so hopefully you'll be done early enough to come by the labs tomorrow?" Rodney asked.

"You'll show me the ships you talked about?"

"Mmm-hmm." He was close enough to touch now, and he nudged John with his shoulder. "Say, I hear there's cake in the canteen tonight."

"Chocolate?"

"Double-layer."

"Awesome."

Over cake and milk, Rodney told John about the progress he'd been making with the Quantum Mirror they'd removed from the chest. It was the smallest of its kind they'd ever found, useful for viewing only. But it had a marvelously complex dialing mechanism. The math was just astounding.

Perhaps Rodney went into the math with a little too much detail, because John's eyes were glazing over.

Or that could be the cake.

Rodney snapped his fingers. "John? John?"

"It's him," John said, his voice hushed. Rodney looked back over his shoulder.

"Oh. Hello, Jackson. How're things?"

John garbled something incomprehensible.

"He's not a saint!" Rodney hissed. "He's a soft scientist!"

But John just stared and stared, and almost missed his mouth with his fork.

"Uh, things are going well. I think I've found a reference to the Tiberius reliquary in the texts. Apparently the sexual, ah, component was thought to be meant for 'drawing closer' to the flock. Sort of an odd twist, if you ask me."

"Nnnimwh," John said.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Rodney grumbled.

Jackson ate his cake.

"You really don't—" John gulped and then rushed out, "you don't remember me at all?"

Jackson dabbed his mouth with his napkin before replying, "I'm sorry, no. The Ancients wiped my memory before returning me to this plane of existence."

John's face fell momentarily, but then he brightened. "Maybe if we use the box—"

"Oh, gee, look at the time," Rodney said. "Good luck with your research, Jackson. I'm sure it will be incredibly useful in that fluffy-headed way your findings sometimes are." Rodney yanked on John's elbow, getting him upright. "Come along, Sheppard, you don't even know where your quarters are yet."

"But—"

"We'll probably have to hit up the quartermaster for, uh, towels and such."

"Towels. I don't have any towels," John said, nodding. "Good thinking, Rodney." He followed Rodney out and down the corridor. "Probably sheets, too."

"Yes," Rodney said, "and not to mention a _brain_. What were you thinking? You can't use the box on Jackson! He's not sick."

"But you heard him! Poor guy has amnesia."

Rodney shoved John into the elevator and hit the button. "He does not. He's just bitter he doesn't get to be a god anymore. Well, it's time to face facts—we all wish we were gods. We just have to accept the cards that were dealt us."

They went and gathered the necessities from the quartermaster, who was inappropriately attentive—turned out John had healed him of his acid reflux.

John's luggage was waiting in his new quarters. It was a pitiful sight—a single, small dufflebag and a tiny suitcase. John immediately went to the dufflebag and pulled out an embroidered hunk of cloth.

"Oh, tell me you didn't bring your mitre."

John shrugged. "It's a cool souvenir." He took it over to his side table and started to stand it up, but first he upended it and pulled out something tightly wrapped in cloth. Then he set his mitre just so and stood back to admire it.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the thing in John's hands. Whatever it was looked heavy.

"Oh, well." John looked sheepish all of a sudden.

"John?"

John unwrapped the object slowly. As he got closer to the center, the object began to shine.

"You didn't." Rodney's heart jumped with excitement.

"They didn't need it," John said defensively. Finally, the small, round orb dropped into the palm of his hand to glow there softly. "I found one in the catacombs that didn't light up. I left that as a replacement."

"Oh, my God. You really did. You stole the Papal Orb."

"Yeah." John grinned at him. "It's kind of awesome."

Rodney snorted. "You do realize you're going to have to let me study it."

"What?" John clutched it to his chest. "No way!"

"Way! It's an Ancient artefact! The whole purpose of my life right now, actually." Rodney let his voice soften. "I won't hurt it, I promise."

"Well, fine. But you're working on the Mirror right now. I'll let you borrow this when you're done with that."

"You're a piece of work, you know that?" Rodney approached. "Let me see?"

John handed it over with some reluctance. It really was quite beautiful, even though the glow faded as soon as it passed into Rodney's hands. He pressed it against John's wrist just to watch it light up again, to see the greenish light flare up from within the pearly depths of the sphere.

"Incredible," he said, then relinquished it into John's greedy hands. John dropped it into his pocket as if he couldn't bear to be parted from it now that he'd been reminded.

"Well," Rodney said awkwardly, "I guess this is goodnight. Don't forget to brush your teeth."

John grinned at him and swayed forward for a moment before looking chagrined and pulling back. "Right. Well, good night, buddy. See ya tomorrow." He turned away, the silver chain of his cross winking along the skin of his neck.

Rodney curled his hand into a fist and stalked out the door.

:::

Rodney bearded Jackson in his den of bookish iniquity the next morning.

"You have to tell him something—look, just insinuate it, even. You don't have to say it outright, just a gentle suggestion that, as his religious mentor, you think it would be best if he had hot, rabid sex with me."

Jackson looked appalled.

"It's for his own mental health! The poor man is fixated on you. This will be a way to gently push him back onto the path to normalcy."

"The path to normalcy being having sex with you."

"Yes! He thinks he has to keep himself pure to find his 'special purpose.' But, see, you already told him his special purpose was to find the Ancient City. And here he is investigating Ancient artefacts at the SGC, and it's only a matter of time before—"

"What did you say?"

"I said it's only a matter of time before we have sex."

Jackson made a face. "No, about the Ancient City."

"Right. Sheppard said you came to him in the desert and told him his destiny lay in the Ancient City."

"But we never found the Ancient City. Terra Atlantis was just a base."

"Sure. So he's already found his 'special purpose,' and he can have all the hot, nasty sex he wants!"

"Or," Jackson said slowly, and Rodney interrupted, "No! No or! There is no or! There is only sex!"

Jackson blushed faintly. " _Or_ , we find the Lost City, and then you have sex, and Sheppard has his special purpose, and everyone is twice as happy?"

Rodney sagged. "Fine."

:::

First, though, apparently there was the invasion by the Prior.

How the bastard got through the iris was anybody's guess, or for armchair quarterbacking later, but in he got, and through a whole mess of soldiers and past Walter's very clever use of the fire hose, and down the hall to the scientific labs where the Prior proceeded to "debate" the issue of Origin with Rodney and Zelenka and the other scientists.

It did not go well.

Seeing as Rodney had been a staunch atheist from the time Santa had failed to appear to eat his goddamned cookies and bring him his Young Scientist's Hydropower Kit at age four, he didn't take too kindly to some pasty-faced asshole trying to enforce his masters' demands for adulation through the use of technology, albeit extremely sophisticated and advanced technology.

"Is great knowledge, power, and understanding not enough for you to revere the Ori?"

"Oh, I have plenty of knowledge and understanding and power all on my own, thanks. It's called science, you Halloween nightmare."

"Those that do not walk the path of the Ori are not worthy of life."

"Says you." Rodney wasn't a very courageous guy in particular, he was generally willing to let the people whose job it was step forward and do the shooting and the grenade throwing, but bullies got his back up like nobody's business, and this guy was working his last nerve. "The Ori are nothing but a bunch of energy-sucking losers in the game of Ascension—"

"Those who reject the path to enlightenment must be destroyed." The Prior didn't even raise his voice but, crap, he was lifting that wand device of his, which wasn't good at all, and Rodney heard Zelenka moaning beside him, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see himself burst into flames. All he could think was, _Not like this. Dying for some fruitcake wanna-be Gods. I'm a scientist, damn it!_

And then someone yelled, "No!" and there was a pure green flash through his eyelids, and he was amazingly not dead.

He opened his eyes cautiously. Nope. Still not dead.

Instead, there was a green shield surrounding them, and John Sheppard, the apparent source of the glow, was standing in front of him with both arms outstretched.

"Who are you?" the Prior asked. For once his voice was betraying a little bit of emotion.

John reached into his pocked and pulled out the Papal Orb to look at it in amazement. "Well, I _was_ God's Divine Ambassador on Earth," he drawled, and turned his head to grin at Rodney, "but now I guess I'm just the guy who protects people from jerks like you." He turned back to the Prior and started striding toward him.

The Prior backed away, shoving his wand forward, but it only gave a wimpy little burst of light and then coughed itself dim and dead.

John punched him in his pasty white face, knocking him out. Zelenka let out a cheer, and Dr. Lee pounded Rodney on the back.

"Ouch! Quit it."

After that, the SFs all came rushing in, and Rodney grabbed the wand, because he really was curious about it, and almost got into a tug-of-war match with Carter over it, but then John tilted his head at Rodney, and he got distracted by the look in John's eye.

"What?" Rodney said, following John out and away from the crowd.

"Wanna talk to you," John said, loping along. He looked way more relaxed for some reason, much more like the easy-going Pope he'd been back at the Vatican. Rodney realized he must have been feeling pretty out of sorts being thrown into a new environment where he was no longer feted or walking around in shiny robes all the time. But he seemed okay now; pretty chipper, in fact, as he led Rodney back to his quarters.

"So, I guess I should say thank you for, you know, preventing my spontaneous combustion and all," Rodney shivered involuntarily. "That really wasn't how I would have preferred to leave this vale of tears, and mmphf—" John was kissing him.

He'd forgotten—no, not forgotten, but tried desperately not to dwell upon what a terrific kisser John was, how strong and agile his tongue was and the way he liked to rub his thumbs at the hinges of Rodney's jaw. Rodney moaned faintly and tried not to argue himself out of having sex _right now_ , but he could only take it for a few moments before he pulled away and said, "Is this you being a cock tease?"

"What? No, I just—"

"Because do I need to remind you about your vow of chastity?"

"No." John gave him a killing look, but since Rodney had, not ten minutes earlier, faced a fiery death, he wasn't terribly impressed. John sighed. "Okay, fine, so maybe, like I said: I've found my purpose, even if we don't locate the Ancient City, which Jackson tells me he's narrowing in on, anyway. I had a long talk with him." John nuzzled underneath Rodney's jaw, which was just cheating, frankly. "Can we go back to fucking now?"

"Oh, all right."

Even without the involvement of Tiberius' chest, John turned out to be God's gift in the sack, especially when Rodney got him on his knees and elbows on the bed. Rodney discovered that robe had been hiding a pretty terrific ass, too.

Just as Rodney was really getting into it—and from John's groans, he wasn't alone—John made him stop.

"Hang on," John said, and went back up on one hand to fiddle at his neck, then pushed his cross around to hang down his back. "It was hitting me in the face," he said in explanation, and went back down on his forearms.

Rodney groaned and started thrusting again, and followed the winking cross right into the best orgasm of his life.

:::

Mitchell, Carter, Teal'c and Jackson were on one side of the table, and John and Rodney on the other, with O'Neil at the head. They all stared at the Orb, which glowed faintly from being in such close proximity to two strong ATA carriers.

"So," O'Neill said, "am I gonna get a call from the Vatican about this?"

"I don't think so, sir," John said. "I left 'em with a pretty good facsimile."

"Good. That's...good." O'Neill turned to Carter. "And this thing just shuts the Prior's staff right down?"

"Well, sir, it's hard for us to do any clinical trials since we don't have the ability to control the staff. We'd have to take it into the field. But from what I've been able to determine from studying the Orb—once Major Sheppard cooperated," she gave John a rueful look, "it creates a shielding effect that could quite probably defend us from the Prior's weapons."

"Excellent. Well. Sheppard, you up for some off-world activity?"

John blinked. "Can Rodney come with me?"

"What, me? On a gate team?"

"Sure, why not?" John gave Rodney a look that promised him sex—lots of sex, and more sex, and some fun science, and more than a little excitement. And there was always Tiberius' chest for some sexual healing afterward.

"Oh, hell. Count me in."

 

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> Oh God, if you can name either the movie reference or the quote I will give you one million hams. And an OTW thermos.
> 
> And now: when good popes go bad, from the [comment fic sequel](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/321359):
> 
>  


End file.
